Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Simon Ackhurst’s narrowboat is moored a quarter of a mile along the tow path from the Flotilla pub and restaurant. Martin parks in the pub car park and they walk past the busy beer garden – the smell of pub grub making Jennie’s stomach growl – and out along the gravel path. It doesn’t take them long to find Ackhurst’s mooring. It’s a beautiful spot. The grassy bank is dotted with wildflowers and clover, and the willow trees that curve across the water from the other side of the canal provide some shade from the warm evening sun. She can hear the birds singing in the trees, and a little further along the canal a family of swans are gliding gracefully through the water.

‘This is all right, isn’t it?’ says Martin, echoing her thoughts. ‘Private spot, close to a pub. Perfect.’

‘Yeah,’ says Jennie. She looks at the navy narrowboat with gold-trimmed windows and a few tubs of white and red geraniums on the bow. ‘Nice boat.’

Stepping onto the boat, Martin goes down the steps and knocks on the wooden door.

It opens almost straightaway and a tanned, broad-shouldered man with thinning blond hair steps out wearing board shorts, a baggy pink T-shirt and sliders. ‘DS Wright?’

‘That’s me,’ says Martin. ‘Thanks for meeting with us at such short notice. This is my boss, DI Jennie Whitmore.’

‘Jennie?’ says Simon, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘Bloody hell, you haven’t changed a bit.’

She knows he’s lying, but then he always was one to try to charm the girls. ‘Likewise.’ He probably knows she’s lying, too.

‘Come in, come in,’ says Ackhurst, moving into the boat and gesturing for them to follow. ‘It’s been forever, Jennie. Must be, what, at least thirty years?’

Jennie nods. ‘Thirty years, yeah. Since school.’

‘And now you’re a detective, that’s so cool,’ says Simon, enthusiastically. ‘I’m glad things have worked out well for you.’

Jennie just smiles. Life has worked out nothing like she thought it would. From what she’s read of Simon’s rap sheet she guesses the same for him. He was the school’s top athlete, and the guy all the fifth-formers and a lot of the sixth form were crushing on; destined for big things in the sporting world. But none of it happened after he went off the rails when Hannah disappeared. ‘As you know, Hannah Jennings’ remains were found buried in the basement of the old White Cross Academy. We’re investigating her murder, and as one of her close friends, we’d like to ask you a few questions.’

‘Of course, of course,’ says Simon, gesturing for them to sit down on the bench seat. Behind him on the stovetop a kettle starts to whistle. ‘Can I get you a drink? Tea, alcohol-free beer?’

‘We’re fine, thanks,’ says Jennie. Her tone is professional, firm; Simon needs to realise this isn’t a social call. She takes a seat. The boat is bigger than she’d expected – and more homely, with its pine-clad walls, paintings of local landscapes and check curtains. There’s an armchair next to the small log burner and bench seats either side of a narrow table.

As Martin sits beside her, Simon moves the armchair so it faces the bench and takes a seat. ‘So how can I help?’

‘Why don’t you start by telling us about your relationship with Hannah Jennings?’ says Jennie. The slight movement of the floor beneath her feet is a bit disconcerting, it’s years since she’s been on any kind of boat.

‘Erm, sure,’ says Simon, slightly wrongfooted, perhaps because he’d expected Jennie to just go on what she knew of the relationship. ‘I started dating Hannah when we were kids really, seventeen years old and no clue about life. We’d known each other since we were small. It started off at junior school with me pulling her pigtails and her thinking boys were gross, then we became mates at the academy, and it ended up with us becoming an item in sixth form. But you know that bit.’

Jennie nods, acknowledging that she did know that. She glances at Martin but the reference seems to have gone over his head. ‘Obviously we were both in the last year of sixth form together, but it’s important we get your perspective on what happened around the time Hannah went missing. Can you talk us through what you were doing the day she disappeared?’

‘Sure,’ says Simon. His voice sounds a little strained now. His face turning slightly paler beneath his tan. ‘Hannah said she needed to study for her drama exam later in the week, so we agreed we’d get together after that. I was at home most of the day, I slept until just after lunch, did a bit of studying for my chemistry exam, then did my usual workout at the gym around three o’clock for an hour or so. After that I went to work. I worked the night shift, packing in the warehouse at EDT Logistics, and got home just before eight in the morning and went to bed.’

What Simon is saying matches the statement he gave the police back in 1994, but there’s no evidence in the file that his alibi had been checked and confirmed. Jennie tries not to let her irritation show. What else did they forget to do back then? She keeps her voice even; it’s not Simon’s fault the first investigation was so sloppy. ‘So, just to clarify, you didn’t see Hannah at any point that day or night?’

‘No.’

‘But things were good between you? Any arguments?’ asks Jennie.

‘We were good,’ says Simon, sadly. ‘She was the love of my life. I bloody worshipped her. You know, she was super focused on becoming a model, and I was totally behind her doing it. There was a lot of talk in the papers back when she disappeared about how she was going to move to London and all that rubbish, but she wasn’t. We’d talked about it and she was going to stay in White Cross and commute. Nothing was going to come between us.’

Simon’s deluded, thinks Jennie. Even if she hadn’t said exactly when she was leaving, Hannah had made no secret of the fact she wanted to leave White Cross and move to London. Had he really believed she wouldn’t go, or was this a self-protection mechanism, allowing him to pretend their relationship had been more important to Hannah than he knew it really had been? Jennie knows she needs to explore this. ‘Did you know about the rumours that Hannah was seeing a teacher?’

‘Of course I’d heard those bloody rumours, they were all over school,’ says Simon, his upper lip curling into a snarl. ‘Mr Edwards was always perving over Hannah – it was disgusting. It was totally obvious why there were rumours. The bloke was a complete lech.’

‘Was there any truth in them?’ asks Jennie.

‘No,’ says Simon, quickly. ‘Hannah wouldn’t touch that pervy bastard.’

‘So the rumours saying she was sleeping with him were wrong?’ says Martin.

‘Totally, mate,’ says Simon. ‘The only person she was shagging was me.’

Interested in the more casual way he replies to her DS, Jennie nods as if agreeing with Simon. Thinking it might encourage him to open up more, she glances at Martin and gives a small nod, staying silent to let him ask the next question.

Martin consults his scratchpad. ‘Can you tell us what happened in your life after Hannah disappeared?’

‘It screwed me up, mate.’ Simon runs his hand through his thinning blond hair, looking troubled. ‘Her just being gone like that, it messed with my head. I buggered up my exams and dropped out of the football team, and just couldn’t get my shit together. It was the not knowing, yeah? The wondering where she was and when would she come back. It made me angry, adrift, and I kind of lost the plot.’

‘In what way?’ asks Martin.

‘Grief and rage got the better of me. I turned to drink, drugs – anything that’d numb the feeling of helplessness.’ Simon shakes his head. ‘It was bad, mate. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of – I was done for GBH, theft … But I got lucky inside – was given help and got clean. In a weird way, prison was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. It helped me get my shit together. When I came out, I trained as a counsellor. Now I run my charity and help young offenders who’ve lost their way like I did.’

‘Very admirable,’ says Martin, smiling.

‘Lucky, I’d say,’ says Simon. ‘I could easily have gone another way, but the help I got saved me. Now I’m just trying to pay it forward.’

Jennie resists getting sucked into the love-in that seems to be developing between Simon and Martin. ‘What about the payments Elliott Naylor makes to you? A thousand pounds every month since he started work after university?’

Simon looks shifty. ‘Look, I’d rather not say if that’s okay? It’s Elliott’s story to tell.’

‘But I’m asking you ,’ says Jennie, narrowing her gaze. ‘Are you blackmailing him?’

‘Dear God, no, far from it,’ says Simon, looking horrified.

‘It’d be good if you could tell us what the money is for,’ says Martin, conversationally. ‘Just so we can eliminate you as a suspect.’

‘A suspect? Really?’ Simon looks shocked but recovers quickly. ‘Okay, fine. If you really have to know, I guess you’d call it a gratitude payment.’

‘For what?’ asks Jennie.

‘Because I saved his life.’ Simon looks torn, as if he doesn’t really want to tell them more. ‘Look, okay, some stuff happened earlier in the year before Hannah disappeared. Elliott had a thing for this guy. He never told him, but the guy found out and beat the shit out of him. Elliott hit a real low and tried to take his own life. It was awful. I found him passed out on pills, covered in vomit, and I thought he was dead … I was really bloody shit-scared. Totally panicked. But I managed to call an ambulance and get him help.’ He pauses. Takes a breath. Then looks back at Jennie. ‘When I was coming out of the worst time in my life, things were going well for Elliott and he wanted to help me out, like I’d helped him. So he started donating a monthly amount into my account. He’s never wanted to stop.’

Again, Jennie feels the pang of sadness that Elliott hadn’t felt he could confide in her. She thought they’d been close, but it seems even Simon, who Elliott had seemed to tolerate rather than like when they were at school, knew more personal things about him than she had. Why did none of her friends tell her? Why didn’t Hannah?

Pushing her feelings aside, Jennie concentrates on Simon. She doesn’t get the sense that he’s lying, but it seems a stretch that Elliott would be so grateful for something that happened thirty years ago – even something as major as saving his life – that he’d pay out a grand a month forever. After all, he’s recently finished an expensive renovation on his home and the costs of having a baby through surrogacy can’t be cheap. Surely there’s more to it? ‘Did Hannah tell Elliott’s crush that he fancied him?’

Simon purses his lips. ‘I heard that, yeah. But it seemed out of character for her.’

‘Could she have done it while she was high?’ asks Jennie.

‘I don’t know what you—’

‘We know Hannah and Rob sometimes met up to do drugs together,’ says Jennie, pausing as the boat rocks again and her stomach lurches. ‘There was an incident four weeks before she disappeared, an overdose or bad reaction – we have the A it doesn’t look like there is any love lost between the two of them then, yet they’ve been friends for years. ‘Is that why you argued with Rob at the vigil?’

‘No, I …’ Simon shakes his head. ‘Look, I don’t like speaking ill of the dead and all that, but Rob was always a bit of an arsehole. We never really got on. He looked down on me, especially after I went to prison. And at the vigil, with Hannah’s picture right there … knowing the stuff he used to do with her … it made me almost lose my shit.’

‘How do you know about Rob and Hannah’s drug-taking?’ asks Martin. ‘Were you there?’

‘No, mate, I smoked weed, like any other teenager, but nothing heavier than that,’ says Simon. ‘I had a key for the darkroom. If they wanted to use it, they had to ask me for the key. I turned up once while they were there, curious about what they were getting up to. I saw for myself the state they were in.’

‘When was this?’ asks Jennie. Out of the boat’s window she sees a red and black narrowboat pass by along the canal, a Jack Russell terrier sitting on the stern, watching the water intently.

‘Couple of months before Hannah disappeared,’ says Simon. ‘After that I used to ask Hannah about her trips. She wanted to try the ligature thing when we had sex, but I said no. I wasn’t into that shit.’

It’s the second time Simon’s talked about sex with Hannah. Jennie makes a mental note to circle back to it. ‘Who had the key on the night Hannah disappeared?’

Simon thinks for a moment. ‘Must have been Elliott. He was in the darkroom developing pictures that day.’

‘And when did he give it back to you?’ asks Jennie.

‘I’m not sure, probably the next afternoon. Like I said, I was at work and then went to bed, so the earliest would have been the next day.’

Jennie frowns. If Elliott had left Hannah and her dad in the basement darkroom, what had he done with the key? Did he leave the place unlocked? She makes a mental note to ask Elliott when they interview him again. Then changes tack. ‘Do you think Rob killed Hannah?’

‘Shit, I …’ Simon runs his hand through his hair again. ‘Rob wasn’t a bad guy; I don’t think he’d ever mean to hurt a person. I mean, he was a doctor, yeah? He wanted to save lives.’

Jennie nods. It’s interesting that Simon’s dodged answering directly with a yes or no. It’s also curious that he’s never once expressed sadness or shock that Rob took his own life.

Simon clears his throat. ‘Look, it’s obvious Mr Edwards killed Hannah. He was totally fixated on her, and there was no way she wanted anything to do with him. I reckon he killed her because he couldn’t handle the rejection.’

Jennie looks at Simon’s bunched fists and how his face is now flushed and the veins raised on his forehead, and thinks he’s working too hard to throw Edwards under the bus. There’s definitely jealousy in play, but the more she listens and observes him, the more she thinks that it’s on the part of Simon. ‘Did you use protection when you had sex?’

Simon sits more upright in his armchair, the leather creaking as he moves. ‘Yeah, we used rubbers. Neither of us wanted a kid, obviously.’

‘That’s very diligent of you,’ says Jennie, injecting an air of surprise into her tone.

‘What do you mean?’ says Simon, frowning.

‘Well, considering Hannah was already on the pill, you really doubled down. Although it was probably wise if you were worried she was sleeping with Mr Edwards too; condoms give far more protection against STDs.’

‘Hannah wasn’t on the pill, and she would never have slept with that old perv,’ says Simon. ‘She didn’t—’

‘ You never actually slept with her, did you?’ says Jennie, pushing him harder. He clearly has no idea that Hannah was on the pill. For all his big talk, Jennie doubts he ever got close to sleeping with her friend. ‘You were still a virgin.’

‘I bloody well wasn’t,’ says Simon, his cheeks reddening, and his voice getting louder. ‘I’d done it with loads of girls.’

‘The thing is, we’ve heard it from multiple sources that you and Hannah hadn’t slept together.’ Jennie looks at Simon sympathetically, her voice kind. ‘There’s no shame in it, Simon. It’s just we know Hannah was sexually active, and we need to find out who she was sleeping with.’

Simon presses his fists into his thighs as if trying to stop himself from losing his temper and leans closer to Jennie, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘She couldn’t get enough of my dick. Morning, noon and night she always wanted me up her.’

Jennie tastes the bitterness on her tongue and fights the urge to heave. As she looks at Simon, his laddie bravado failing to cover the resentment he’s harbouring, she struggles to disguise how disgusting she finds him. But she knows she’s right; he’d felt emasculated and jealous, and maybe enough anger to push him over the edge and kill Hannah.

She holds Simon’s gaze. Feels the rage coming off him in waves.

Is he Hannah’s killer?